


Miss My Sun

by Alec10k64



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken, newsies musical
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-17 16:46:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11855670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alec10k64/pseuds/Alec10k64
Summary: Chapter 1 of I don't know how many yet? (I've written these at like 4 in the morning every day and I've never actually shared my work anywhere, so bear with me if its not the best.) loosely based on a prompt I got on my tumblr (@thesilveralec)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 1 of I don't know how many yet? (I've written these at like 4 in the morning every day and I've never actually shared my work anywhere, so bear with me if its not the best.) loosely based on a prompt I got on my tumblr (@thesilveralec)

“Did you hear that?” Jack asked for the tenth time. Davey sighed.  
“Jack, I’ve told you, you’re not-”  
“I’m telling you, I’m haunted!” He insisted. Davey rolled his eyes as the other boys agreed with him.  
“Okay then,” he went back to his book. Race came over, leaning over him.  
“Yeah, and why not?” He asked, resting his arms on his head. Davey swatted at him.  
“There’s a ghost!” Albert insisted from his spot on the couch.  
“That depends on how you look at it. If you look, and you see a ghost, there’s a ghost! But you haven’t seen it, and you’ve barely heard it!” He argued, laughing, only slightly annoyed that the boys had managed to pull him away from his book.  
Spot didn’t contribute to this conversation, just rolled his eyes and went back to his phone.  
“Yeah, whatever, I’m haunted! And I swear, this ghost loves me!” Jack yelled, and launched into an explanation of why. Davey stopped listening halfway through, going back to his book when he heard a very faint, familiar thumping noise up and down the hallway. He hoped Jack didn’t hear it, whatever it was. It grew a bit louder, came closer, then stopped. He shook his head, turning back to the other boys. It was his imagination. Had to be.

Jack laughed at something Race said, pointing his paintbrush threatening at him. He would never actually paint on him. That was something that belonged to him and Crutchie. He turned a bit, yelling at Race to distract himself. He couldn’t- he couldn’t think about that. Davey looked over at him, and he turned away.  
Crutchie stopped a foot away from the entrance to Jack’s penthouse. One more step, and he’d be in full view of them. But he couldn’t bring himself to take that next step, couldn’t face the reactions they would have. He missed the penthouse, hadn’t actually been up in months. There were so many memories up there.  
Where Jack had said he loved him for the first time… His first kiss with Jack… Memories with the guys… Endless nights with Jack… He pressed his hands to his burning eyes, feeling the effects of crying without actually doing so.  
But they had ended. Why was this happening? What the hell had he done to deserve this? He missed them. He missed the guys, he missed Jack… He felt a lump in his throat. He needed Jack. Jack hadn’t said a word to him in months. None of them had. Sometimes Davey noticed him, at least he thought he did, but if he did, he never said anything. Crutchie hit the wall behind him in frustration. He just wanted one word from Jack, one look even. Just for him to know that he was there. Hell, he even missed the damn pain in his leg!  
He knew Davey at least could hear his footsteps, yet never anything else. He shivered at the memory. They had thought he would be fine. He was supposed to be fine, that’s what they had told him when he was small. And they were so close. One week away from Santa Fe.  
But then-  
Crutchie shook his head. Don’t. Don’t think about it. Don’t do that to yourself. Taking a breath, he stepped into the room. Davey looked up, in his general direction, but never exactly at him. No one else noticed he was there. Crutchie hit his crutch against the ground, hard. Davey was the only one who had any kind of reaction. Crutchie let out a sob. He wanted his brothers back, he wanted Jack, more than anything. Wanted to be held and kissed and told it was okay and that there was no need to be scared, cause Jack was there, he had him, he was safe, everything would be alright. He didn’t want to be alone. Crying, he sat beside Race first. If he closed his eyes and listened to them, he could almost pretend they knew he was there.  
“Hey Race, how’re your bets goin?” He tried. Race hadn’t heard him.  
He went to Spot next.  
“Hey Spot, you’re still so short!”  
Nothing. No reaction from the boy who definitely would have punched him if he had heard that.  
He turned to Albert.  
“Hey Al, you miss me?!”  
Again, nothing. Just the boys talking to each other. Closing his eyes, he moved to Davey.  
“Heya Dave, how’s school? Jack still bribing ya with books?”  
Davey looked in his direction, and finally met his eyes. Crutchie held his breath, hoping it wasn’t just an accident. Davey stared where he was standing for a while. He muttered something to himself, nodded. Turned back to the laughter.  
Well. That was the most reaction he’d ever had. Maybe… Maybe there was hope. Finally, finally- Crutchie looked over at Jack. His amazing, beautiful, paint covered Jack. He stepped closer slowly, watching as he laughed distractedly, drawing something he wouldn’t let anyone see. Crutchie stepped behind him, looking over his shoulder… And started crying again. He saw the two of them starting back at him, drawing Jack holding tight to drawing Crutchie. Crutchie looked closer, nothing writing on it.  
‘There’s a life that’s quite the living… And I’ll try to do my share… Miss your hands… You were my sun… Wanna sit on our roof, having fun… Watch you there… Need you here… Save my place… I’ll be there… So just hold on kid… Till my train makes… Santa Fe…’  
Crutchie could swear he actually felt tears burn his eyes.  
'As much as I miss you, that better not be for a damn long, long time, Jackie,“ he murmured.  
Stepping closer, he sat beside him, and leaned against the other boy, resting his head on his shoulder and placing his hand onto Jack’s open palm, knowing he wouldn’t feel it. Jack shivered, froze slightly. Davey glanced over at them. Opened his mouth to say something, decided against it. Just started tapping on the floor. Morse code. Somehow, only Davey and Crutchie knew it.  
’… C-r-u-t-c-h?’  
Crutchie sighed, wiped at his eyes. Started tapping back.  
’… I-m s-c-a-r-e-d D-a-v-e-y…’ He didn’t expect to actually get an answer, so he didn’t particularly care what he tapped. Davey’s eyes widened, and he paled. Crutchie was afraid he was going to pass out.  
’… H-o-l-y s-h-I-t ! Oh- my- god ! W-e-l-l f-I-g-u-r-e t-h-I-s o-u-t. J-a-c-k k-n-o-w ?’  
Crutchie jumped in surprise.  
‘N-o. I- m-i-s-s h-i-m.’ Crutchie tapped again. Davey’s breath caught in his throat.  
“Nothing,” he said, when the other boys looked at him.  
“Just remembered something about school tomorrow that I’m worried about,”  
They all rolled their eyes. Crutchie closed his eyes, rested against Jack again, placing his hand on his again. Something tightened slightly around his hand. He looked down. Jack’s hand had somehow curled around Crutchie’s. He bit his lip. Slowly, Jack’s fingers started tapping against his hand.  
Jack hurriedly kicked the guys out when they all had to leave, and threw himself down onto the couch, breathing heavily. What the hell had just happened? That- there was no way. He had only been half serious when he talked about being haunted. But he kept replaying the night’s events. The thumping in the hallway. Okay, that could have been his mind messing with him. Davey was acting kinda weird, would sometimes jump or seem to notice something they didn’t.  
But then there was the feeling of someone leaning on him, and a hand in his, when none of the boys were near enough to do so. He bit his lip, hard. Then there was Davey. None of them knew that Jack knew Morse Code, but he did, and kept it secret.  
So he knew exactly what Davey had been tapping into the floor. 'So Dave believes in my ghost after all,’ he thought with a bitter smile.  
And more importantly, he had known exactly what was typed back. None of the boys knew it, and none of them were cruel enough to play that awful of a joke on him, it’d hurt them all too. But Jack had been looking at Davey’s hands out of the corner of his eye.  
And they hadn’t moved an inch when there was the response tapping. He let out a sob. Whatever was going on, his boyfriend, his soul mate, the most important thing in his life that had been ripped from him months ago, apparently wasn’t gone completely. And he was alone, and he was scared.  
Jack looked up.  
“…Crutchie?” He asked. His voice hoarse and throat hurt from crying. Nothing. He felt like an idiot, but- there was no way he had imagined all that. Which meant...  
“Fuck, Crutchie… Sweetheart, I’m so sorry,” he sobbed, burying his face in his arms. How couldn’t he have been able to tell it was Crutchie? He was an awful person- he closed his eyes and felt a hand brush against his cheek. Reaching up, Jack took it in his, pressed a kiss to it. Opening his eyes, he saw the faint form of Crutchie.  
“Oh my god,” he choked out, breathing picking up. He leaned over, taking the shaking, flickering, crying form of the boy into his arms.  
“Crutch-” he pressed a kiss to the top of his head.  
“Oh god, baby. It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay. I have no clue what the fuck’s going on, hell I’m probably drunk, but we’re gonna figure this out if it’s not. Oh god, what am I saying? You’re dead! You died, I’m talkin- I’m talking to a ghost!” He laughed humorously, just squeezed him tighter, brain barely working, just the feeling of Crutchie in his arms. Crutchie clutched at him tightly. Home. Home. You’re home. He rocked them back and forth for what felt like hours, but never long enough.  
“Shhhh, shhhh honey. It’s okay. It’s okay now, I’m here. I got you, you’re safe,” he pressed their foreheads together, licking tears off his lips.  
“Jack…” Crutchie whispered, finally speaking. He clung tighter. Jack couldn’t think about anything else, not how impossible this was, not what would happen tomorrow, not if Crutchie would be gone tomorrow, just the feeling of his boy in his arms. Crutchie. His beautiful, somehow here, Crutchie Morris. They would- they would fix this somehow. Jack would find a way. He closed his eyes, at some point falling asleep or passing out. When he awoke, the boy was no longer in his arms, or anywhere to be seen...


	2. Chapter 2

"Dave? How long have you known?” Jack asked hesitantly, trying and failing at mentally preparing himself. The other boy looked up quickly before going back to his book, not interested.  
“Gonna have to be more specific Jack?”  
Jack closed his eyes. How- he couldn’t believe this was his life. That he was asking this. Asking his best friend how long he had known about the love of his life, his beautiful soulmate, his sun, being a ghost. Taking a breath, he sat in front of his friend.  
“How long have you known about him?”  
Davey looked up, confused at that.  
“Again, be more specific?” He put down his book at least. Jack sighed, digging his nails into his palm. He didn’t- he wasn’t good at this, he didn’t want to have to-  
“How long have you known ‘bout Crutchie being here?” Davey’s book slammed as he dropped it. He didn’t meet his eyes for a minute. Then his his face in his hands.  
“… How’d you figure it out?” Davey asked gently. Jack sighed, standing up again angrily.  
“I- I don’t. I guess I kinda always knew? Or I should have known at least. There’s the- the thumping in the hallways.” He started listing things. Davey nodded.  
“Yeah. I’ve heard it too,”  
“Then, I’ve always joked ‘bout there bein a ghost that loves me, but- now there really is one? He’ll I’ll go to bed and wake up and my paints are all cleaned up, and I’ve never really known if I’m just too drunk to remember or Race sneakin in or what. An- you remember when all the guys were over here last time?”  
Davey nodded.  
“You mean last night?”  
Jack glared at him.  
“Cut your sarcasm, Jacobs. Anyway, he- I couldn’t see him, but I know you’ve been noticin him. You always look like you see or hear somethin we don’t. And- I guess he, sat next to me?” Jack looked over at Davey for confirmation, who nodded.  
“He kinda just- laid his head on your shoulder and held your hand and- I’m probably not helping, continue,” Davey said.  
“I, I kinda almost felt it? And then, you started tapping and doing your morse code thing.”  
“You know morse code?”  
Jack smirked.  
“Yeah. Which means I heard you two whenever you would talk shot about me,” he sat down again, started bouncing his leg up and down.  
“And- I heard him tap back Dave. He’s scared. He’s alone and he’s scared and I-” he squeezed his eyes shut.  
“So I kicked everyone out and started calling for him. And then he was here, he was right in my arms, an I held him an- he was gone when I woke up,” he finished miserably, swallowing past the lump in his throat.  
“Oh god,”  
Crutchie leaned against the wall around the corner, trying to be quiet. His heart hurt at hearing Jack start to sob again. He wanted to go over so bad. But he had no idea how this fucking thing worked. Would he even be able to see him? He didn’t know. And Crutchie couldn’t face going in and seeing tears he could do nothing about. So, carefully sitting so his crutch wouldn’t make noise, he curled up and listened, sobbing without any of the effects. Fuck this.  
Jack looked up as the door opened. Davey had been over every day. Some days, they tried to find Crutchie. But he either wasn’t there or was too scared to find them. Albert and Race came in, through the door for once, which made Jack suspicious.  
“What do you two fuckers want?” He tried, but it came out sounding hoarse and emotionless. The two boys looked at each other before sitting in front of them.  
“Look,” Race began. He licked his lips.  
“It’s been, what, weeks?” He asked, before continuing.  
“Maybe… Maybe we should start talkin bout a funeral.”  
Jack’s head snapped up at that. His stomach turned.  
“What?”  
Race ran his hands through his hair.  
“Look, I don’t like it either- you know I don’t- he’s like a brothe to me, okay?” He sniffed, took a breath.  
“But the docs, they- there’s nothing. No sign of anything, Jack. If there was a chance he could wake up, the I wouldn’t be here. But- you’ve heard the docs- maybe… Maybe we should..”  
Jack stood up, started pacing around the room. His breathing sped up.  
“No. No. No. No no no, Racetrack Higgens! How co- how could-” he couldn’t get the words out. He let out a sob, kicking at the couch. What would happen to Crutchie if they did?  
“We’re running out of money, Jack!” Albert yelled suddenly, standing up. Jack had forgotten he was there.  
“Do you not get that?! It’s gonna happen anyway! Why not- we don’t like it anymore than you do! Okay? Crutchie-”  
Jack let out a whimper.  
“Crutchie’s family to all of us, not just you! But I- he’s hurtin Jack. Alright? I don’t wanna see him suffering no more! I- he’s not waking up! I-” he took a breath, shook his head. Walked out of the room for a minute. Jack looked over at Race.  
“Get-” he started, then choked. He fell to his knees, looked over at Davey. Struggling to regain composure, he sat up.  
“Dave and I got something to tell you.”  
"He comes and goes?” Race asked, somewhat doubtfully. Davey nodded, still sounding close to tears from the previous conversation.  
“Yes. We- we don’t really know how it works. We couldn’t see him until a couple days ago. We don’t know if he’s not here, or he’s too scared to find us, or anything,” he sighed, rubbed at his eyes.  
Crutchie closed his eyes.  
So now the others knew. That- that’d make this somewhat less like hell. But- what if they couldn’t see him? He missed those boys almost as much as he missed Jack.  
'Fuck it.’ He thought, picked up his crutch, and started up the stairs. He stopped at the entrance to the penthouse. Last time he had done this… He shook his head, blinking back the ever present feeling of tears.  
“Did ya miss me?!” He watched as the two boys who hadn’t seen him yet jump, and turn to look at him. He laughed, felt tears prickle his eyes.Albert was the first to react.  
“Of course, you little shit,” he laughed, put his hand to his mouth, eyes wide. Race was staring in silence, mouth open.  
“What- fuck- Crutchie?!” He asked in a small voice, reaching a hand out. Crutchie would have sobbed if he could, stepping into the room, taking hold of Race’s outstretched hand.  
“Heya Race,” he whispered. Race grabbed him, held him tightly to him.  
“Oh god, I’m dreaming, drunk, or high, but I don’t care!” He sobbed, tears falling onto his shirt. Albert came over.  
“Don’t hog him Race!” He cried, putting his arms around Crutchie too.  
“I’m right there with him but I don’t care either,” he said softly.  
“Hey kid,” he smiled, reached up, and spun his hat back around. Crutchie laughed, then went to Davey, who threw himself at him wordlessly.  
“It’s good to know I wasn’t wrong!” He said, squeezing him before nudging Jack. Jack put his hand on his cheek, looking into his eyes for a moment. He didn’t move, then pulled him close, pulling Crutchie down with him.  
“I thought I was drunk,” he whispered in a sob, pressing kisses to the top of his head. Crutchie leaned up, kissed his cheek. Then reached up and snatched the hat off Jack’s head, flipping it around.  
“You’re wearing it wrong,” he smiled, sticking his tongue out at him before resting his head against Jack’s chest again, listening to his heartbeat. Jack held him tighter. God, he had missed this.   
Crutchie almost didn’t care that he was dead, as long as he was here. He could forget everything. Jack was here, Jack made him safe.  
“Hey Crutch?” Jack asked eventually, after a few minutes of silence. Crutchie looked up at him. The bit of hair poking out from the hat was a greenish color, and there was a smear of purple paint across Jack’s cheek, and a green smudge on his nose. Crutchie’s eyes moved down to his lips, which he kissed.  
“Crutchie?” Jack asked again, breathlessly after pulling away. Crutchie mimicked Jack’s whine.  
“What?”  
Jack sighed.  
“Why were you so scared sweetheart?”  
Crutchie blinked. Shrugged.  
“I don’t know,” he went back to playing with Jack’s paint covered hands. Jack took hold of his hand, squeezed it, kissed it, an Crutchie melted.  
“Please,” he asked, eyes pleading.  
“I- I’ve been here for weeks and I’m stuck in the house and I’ve seen you cry and scream every night and I fucking can’t do anything about it!” He screamed. It burst out of him, and once he started he found he couldn’t stop it.  
“and I’ve tried so hard to get you guys to fuckin notice me and no one has until now and no one even knew I was there ever! And I’m scared and don’t know what’s going on and I don’t know why I’m here when I should be dead dead or in that fuckin hospital bed! I’ve just wanted you to hold me, and I’ve tried, I’ve tried so hard to get you to realize, but it takes so much, and you never fuckin knew it was me, and I’ve been so scared and I’ve been myself this whole time and I fucking need you!” He shouted,angrily, desperately.   
Jack’s eyes widened.  
“I know. I should have known it was you. God, I’m awful, I’m so awful, I’m so so sorry Crutch. Yous been- yous had to deal with that by yourself this whole time, I’m so sorry I didn’t know, oh god I’m sorry you’ve had to see me like this,” Jack whispered, pressing his face into the smaller boy’s hair. He pulled him back to stare at his face again  
"Your freckles are like tiny little beautiful suns,” he whispered, and Crutchie smiled.  
“That made no sense, but it was cute and sappy and I love you,” he whispered back, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.  
“You’re cute and sappy and I love you-” Crutchie took his painbrush and brushed it across his nose.  
“You’re also a little shit,” Jack laughed. God had he missed this. He pulled him closer to him, keeping his bright, little shit sun boy wrapped up in his arms, and closed his eyes, afraid that when he opened them, he’d be holding nothing but air.


	3. Chapter 3

Jack slowly opened his eyes, stretched. He blinked slowly, trying to remember where he was. He must have fallen asleep on the roof again, since he felt the hard floor and paintbrushes under his back. He sat up, looked around. Then he realized. He had been holding nothing but air. He swallowed hard, then cursed.   
“Damn it!” Just once, he wanted to wake up holding his boy again. Kiss him awake, count his freckles, paint across his freckles… Throw a fuckin blanket on him… Anything. He would have just liked to see him. But nothing.  
Crutchie was nowhere to be seen. Jack stood up, stretched. Putting one wet brush in his pocket and not bothering to do anything with the rest, he went downstairs to find Davey, listening intently for faint thumping noises.   
But there was nothing.   
Jack found Davey sitting at the counter, reading as usual. He looked up as Jack came in and passed him the old cereal box lying on the counter when he gestured to it.   
"You seen him today?” He finally got out, voice hoarse from sleep and tears. Davey shook his head. “No. He was gone when I woke up.” Jack nodded, heart sinking.   
“Me too,”   
Fuck, what was his life? Every morning asking his best friend if he had seen his dead boyfriend. Was he technically still dead if technically his body was barely alive and was as good as dead according to the doctors? Who the hell knew, certainly not Jack.   
“Think he’s here?” Jack asked, going to the fridge for a drink, not having the stomach for any food. Davey pointed at him.  
"Do not get a beer. Go get a soda or water or something.” Jack whined. “Dave-”   
“It’s 6:00 n the morning Jack. Not right now.”   
Jack whined again, grabbing a Coke and sitting in front of Davey.   
“Whatcha reading?” He asked, curious as to what had hold of the other boy’s attention.  
“… I found books on ghosts and shit at the library,” he said, turning slightly red. Jack snorted.  
“Nerd. And you really like those books are gonna have any bit of truth in em?” Davey shrugged, then raised an eyebrow at Jack. “Number one, you’ve told me, multiple times, that you believe every word in these kinds of things. Number two, not really, but who the fuck knows? And it’s better than doing nothing,” he turned his eyes back to the book.   
He had a point. Jack's head snapped up when he heard a thump in the other room, but there was no other noise, so he thought he imagined it, turning to get his phone. He was just putting his earbuds in when Race walked out of the kitchen with two Cokes, one of which he tossed to Albert.   
Jack sighed, hiding a smile. One day they would come in here and he would- okay, so he was out of ideas and had no idea what he would do, but he’d get back at them somehow.  
"Hey, stop throwing it. If it spills, I ain’t cleaning it!” Jack scolded him, throwing a pillow at him. Race ducked, sending the pillow crashing into Albert. Albert hit Race with it before tossing it back to Jack. Who hadn’t been paying attention, and was surprised to get a face full of pillow. They all laughed. Race stopped, playing with his soda can for a minute.  
“Hey, Dave? Do either of you know why Crutchie’s… Flickering?” Albert finally asked.   
Jack immediately stopped laughing, blood going cold. “He’s what? What do you mean he’s flickerin?” The boys looked at each other.   
"He wasn’t in the room at first when we came in, but he was in the corner. We thought we had imagined it, but he kinda keeps… Fadin in an out?” Race said slowly. Jack stood up, his chair hitting the floor.   
“Where is he?”   
Albert stood up, going around the corner, then stopping suddenly. Jack kneeled on the ground. Crutchie’s crutch was lying on the ground. Jack poked at it, seeing if he could touch it, which he could. He picked it up, following Albert to the other room.   
"Hey Crutch?” He asked softly, looking around for the boy. He finally saw him curled up in the corner, and he made to go over there, but he suddenly disappeared and reappeared on the couch. Jack walked over, reaching out a hand to the other boy.   
“Hey Crutchie,” he whispered again, fingers stroking his hair. He felt… Different. Jack didn’t know how to describe it, but he wasn’t fully there. Crutchie turned.  
“Jack!”   
He pulled himself up into a sitting position, threw his arms around him. Jack pulled him close.  
“What’s happenin kid?” He asked, kissing his cheek. He frowned. Was he colder?  
He shook his head. No.   
"Why's your crutch all the way out with us?” Crutchie took Jack’s hand, started picking at the dried paint. “Crutch?” Albert asked, sitting on the arm of the couch.  
"You guys couldn’t see me. I tried talking but you couldn’t fuckin hear me. I got angry, so I threw it. Started reappearing here.” He muttered angrily. “I’m scared,”   
that was much quieter.  
"I’m sorry,” Jack murmured, kissing his head again. He felt sick. Crutchie shrugged.   
“Ain’t your fault,”   
“We’ll get it figured out Crutch, I promise,”  
Slowly, he reached up to kiss him, Jack leaning down and closing his eyes. Crutchie’s lips were cool on his, and the kiss was short and sweet, and only stopped when Jack felt something wet brush against his cheek.   
"You’re such a little shit, you know that?” He chuckled, pressing a finger against his cheek and pulled it back to see what was on his face.  
“I know!” Crutchie said brightly.  
“Now you match Santa Fe!”   
Jack raised an eyebrow.   
"An how’s that?”   
“Cause you’re clean an green an pretty!” Crutchie said proudly. Then frowned.   
"Well, you ain’t clean, so two out of three, but still.”  
Jack poked him in the side and stuck his tongue out.   
"Yeah yeah, laugh it up. Give me that,”  
he grabbed the paintbrush and painted little hearts across Crutchie’s cheek.   
"An now everyone will know you’re a little shit,” he said when he finished. Crutchie mock glared at him.  
“Jack Kelly, did you-”  
Jack’s heart stopped when he disappeared for a minute, and he only started breathing when he showed up again.  
“… Paint swear words on me?” Crutchie finished hesitantly. Jack nodded, quickly lying.“I hate you,” Crutchie muttered, turning to Albert. “What’d he draw on me?” He asked, moving closer to him. Jack mouthed no at him, but Albert just smirked. “The sappy idiot just painted a bunch of hearts,” he told him. Crutchie twirled around.   
“Ha!”   
He stuck out his tongue again. Jack whined, loudly, and performed his Betrayal scene. Race jumped into the room, tackling Albert, who shoved him away in half mock disgust. “Heyya Crutch!” He said, giving the boy a hug, and handed him his crutch.   
"Left that out there. Figured you’d need it to whack these stupid idiots,”   
he threw himself into the couch. Davey came in soon after, without his book, but he pulled another one from underneath the armchair and curled up in it.  
“So that’s where you keep em!” Jack laughed triumphantly. Davey flipped him off, smirking.  
“Yeah, because I'de be so fuckin dumb that I'de just pull a book out of my actual hiding spot right in front of you. Fuck off,” he laughed, and the other three did too. Jack smiled as Crutchie came over and curled himself up beside him, resting his head on his shoulder and closing his eyes. “You tired? Can ya even sleep kid?” He asked, smiling down at the boy.   
"Fuckin trying to. I sorta can,"he muttered, fingers curling around Jack’s. Not quite trusting the boy, Jack grabbed the paintbrush, and looked around. Shrugging, he tossed it lightly across the room to the table. Davey looked up, stopped it from falling.   
"And that’s why there’s fucking paint all over the house Jack,” he sighed, turning a page and going back to his book. Jack laughed, and closed his eyes, falling asleep to the sound of his friends bickering, arms curling tightly around the boy on his shoulder, only squeezing tighter whenever he disappeared.   
All he woke up to was his boys gone and a letter. He picked it up, noticing Crutchie’s handwriting. Jack felt tears when he read the date, which was several days before anyone had seen him for the first time. He read the words scrawled across the top: "in case you can’t see me today. "  
He looked closer, started  to read.“  
Dear Jack, Greetings from… Wherever the hell I am?   
How are you?   
Think I’m okay.. Guess I wasn’t round here much yesterday… Felt like when I got soaked with my Crutch…   
Oh yeah! Jack, this is Crutchie, by the way! This here house… It’s dark an lonely… You’ll start cryin and I’ll help but I can’t!   
But my leg ain’t so bad, not at all… An if I don't use my crutch I won't fall... Ha ha. I miss the rooftop…”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's probably not gonna be many chapters after this, probably only one or two more. (Comments and everything are very appreciated and make it much more likely that I'll post another chapter soon, if anyone's actually read this. Thanks everyone!)

Jack bit back another sob as he continued reading.   
“I miss the rooftop… Staying late out every evening, in your penthouse in the sky… There’s a cool breeze blowing… That even I can feel…”   
Tears stained the paper.  
“Anyway… So guess what…  
There’s this secret plan that I got… Here’s what it is, and then… Take off like a shot!  
Ok right then… Maybe not… I got no plans, ain’t nothin I got! Hey, but Jack, I’ll still be right here! An maybe one day I might just be… Like Ise been hoping… Where it’s safe, and warm, and familiar, where your arms feel like home… An we’s having wars with paint… Every day… Once that- fuck this! I’ll be fine soon. Good as new. But there’s one thing, I need ya to do. On the rooftop you said that a family looks out for each other… So you tell all the fellas from me… To protect one another!   
The, end…   
Your friend,   
Your lover,  
Your soulmate,   
Crutchie   
Jack folded it up and hurriedly put it in his pocket when he heard footsteps. He looked up, expecting Davey.   
"You weren’t… You weren’t supposed to find them…” Crutchie said softly, sitting on the couch. Jack moved beside him.   
“Why not sweetheart?”   
Crutchie didn’t say anything for a while.  
“You weren’t supposed to know I was so scared…” He finally managed, looking up with pained eyes.   
“Now you’re fucking crying,”   
Jack shook his head, wordlessly for a few minutes.   
“Crutch, I- I get that you’re strong. Alright, I know that, but- you don’t gotta act like it all the time. Breaking down, being scared, that won’t make you any less strong or brave honey. So please? Let yourself break if you need to,” he whispered finally.   
Wait… Jack frowned.   
“Crutch, you said I wasn’t supposed to find "them”. How many are there?“ He asked, slowly looking up. Crutchie shrugged, picking at his crutch.   
"A lot,”   
Silence for a minute.   
Then, as if hearing Jack’s silent please, Crutchie’s flickering form started shaking and he fell into Jack. Jack held open his arms, eyes squeezed shut…   
And wrapped his arms around nothing. Dread filled his stomach. He opened his eyes, looked around, hoping Crutchie had just flickered away or moved last minute. But no.   
The blonde boy was still in the same place he had been. Looking up at Jack, shaking even harder.   
“Hey, hey, Crutch,” he breathed, reaching out to put a hand in his cheek. He felt nothing. Crutchie’s face crumbled and he hid it in his hands.   
Jack felt sick.   
“Hey, kiddo, look up at me. Please. We’re gonna get this figured out, I promise. Can you- can you feel me at all?” He asked.  
Not meeting his eyes, Crutchie reached for his hand. Then scrambled for something to hold on to, shaking his head.   
“I can’t, I can’t feel you Jackie,” his voice cracked. The ball of fear in Jack’s stomach grew bigger. He stood up.   
“Fuck!” He shouted, then turned back to where Crutchie had curled up into a shaking, flickering ball. Jack bit his lip hard, hard enough to draw blood.   
“You’re- what if you- what if you stop being able to see and hear me? I can’t go back to that Jack, I can’t,” Crutchie almost sobbed.   
Jack froze. He- he had never let himself think that was possible. Could- was he gonna lose his boy all over again?  
Crutchie sat up, not looking around at the other boys.   
“I can’t- what if you guys won’t be able to-”   
He flickered away for a while, reappearing back at Jack’s side, who suddenly let out a breath he was holding.   
“Where do you go kid?” Albert asked. Crutchie shook his head.   
“I don’t- I don’t remember- I just know I’m not here and it’s not safe where I go and I’m scared but I can never remember,” he said the last part quietly and went back to picking at his crutch. Jack’s hands jerked up, then he stopped, let them fall back to his sides, not sure how to continue.  
“Do you think he goes between here and the hospital?” Davey asked suddenly.   
“I mean, his body’s there,” Race considered it.   
“It’d make sense… But why doesn’t he stay there? No offense Crutch, you know I love ya,” he added.   
Crutchie nodded. He’d much rather be alive and cuddling with Jack right now than… Half dead or whatever he was.   
“If I was a ghost, the last place I'de haunt would be Jack Kelly” he thought bitterly, remembering a conversation him and Jack had had ages ago…   
“I’m telling you Crutch, there’s a ghost, and it loves me!” Jack had shouted. Crutchie shook his head.   
“Yeah, and this poor ghost would have to deal with your endless bad singing and your Santa Fe rants if you were haunted!”   
Jack had pretended to look offended.   
“The ghost loves my singing!”   
Then he laughed, loudly and happily, head thrown back and arm wrapped around Crutchie’s shoulder, and it was beautiful. Crutchie missed that sound, wanted to hear it more than anything.  
Crutchie had scoffed.   
“If I were a ghost, the last place I'de haunt would be Jack Kelly!” A complete lie, but Jack hadn’t needed to know that.   
Now look at him. Doing exactly that.  
“Something’s… Pulling him back here then…?” Davey’s voice broke through his thoughts. He looked over, paying attention now. Davey leaned against the counter.  
“Whenever he’s dragged away, he’s… Something pulls him back here…” He thought out loud, hopping up onto the counter and flipping Jack off when he scolded him.  
“So… Okay, I’m out of ideas,” he shrugged.   
They all were silent for a moment, Jack’s hands moving up and down as he would go to hold Crutchie. He’d reach up, then looked hurt and lost as he would awkwardly out his hands back down. Crutchie kept a firm grip on his crutch with one hand, picking at the cloth with the other to keep himself from even trying. His heart hurt and his hands itched to move.   
“… What if it’s Jack?” Albert asked suddenly. The other four turned to look at him. Davey hopped off the counter again.  
“Explain,” he said slowly, and Crutchie could see gears turning in his head.  
“What if… Every time he’s getting dragged away… That’s when the doctors are always thinking there’s a slight chance… But then he can tell something’s wrong with you, so he comes back…” He trailed off, shaking his head.   
“It’s stupid, never mind,”  
Davey shook his head.   
“That’s not stupid at all. You may be onto something Al!” He turned to Jack.   
“I know you haven’t been returning the doctors calls cause you’re too scared.”  
Jack opened his mouth to argue.   
“Have so!”   
“I know this because I’ve been returning them instead.”   
Jack shut his mouth, and Crutchie and Davey sniggered at him.  
“Shut up you little shits,” he said.   
“Anyway, they’ve been calling to say that- there have been moments where there’s been- the smallest of chances of him waking up. They thought they’ve been making mistakes, that that sometimes happens, but- what if they’re not? What if it’s Crutchie trying to wake up, then Jack subconsciously pulls him back or something?”  
Jack did argue this time.  
“It’s my fault?!”  
Davey glared at him, rolled his eyes.   
“Not on purpose. Maybe it’s all of us, I don’t know. But we don’t want him in pain, and we know that he’ll be in a lot of pain when he wakes up… So maybe he senses that… And it drags him back? I don’t fucking know, we’re talking about a kinda fucking ghost guys!” He shouted, sitting down with his arms over his head. They all went quiet again.   
“So… We gotta get him to wake up?” Race said finally. Davey nodded. Then shrugged.  
“I guess. I don’t know!”   
Crutchie crawled closer to Jack, getting as close as he could. Leaning over him, he pressed his lips against Jack’s cheek, although neither boy felt anything. Crutchie’s lips were a little cool, and Jack’s cheek a little warm, but other than that? Nothing. Crutchie reached over into Jack’s pocket for the paintbrush, pulling it out. He brought it up and swiped it across Jack’s face, leaving trails of purple. Jack snatched it back, smiling at him.   
“Give me that,” he said, starting to paint across Crutchie’s cheeks. Then he stopped. Put down the brush. Simply kissed Crutchie’s cheek. Crutchie opened his eyes.   
“Can I- it doesn’t work?” He asked, swallowing. Jack shook his head hesitantly.   
“Oh. Well… Ha! I can get you, but you can’t get me back. Which means I fucking won!” He cried, not wanting to show how much the fact that he couldn’t participate in their paint game pained him.   
Jack didn’t say anything for a minute, looking at him sadly. Then, he half forced a smile.  
“That does not mean you’ve won, you little shit. Game’s on hold,”  
“Nope. I won,” Crutchie smirked.   
“Did not. Dave, did he win?” Jack whined, looking over to where the other boy had seemingly pulled another book out of nowhere that he definitely didn’t have seconds ago. Davey looked up, looking between the two.   
“Crutchie fucking won. Don’t be a sore loser, Jack,” he finally said, laughing when Jack whined loudly.   
“You’re supposed to be on my side!”   
Davey shrugged.  
“Since when?”   
Jack sat up from where he had fallen dramatically to the floor.  
“Since always!” He gasped, offended.  
“I can’t have everyone ganging up on me.”  
“Maybe I’m a fucking traitor then. Or I’ve just been a double agent the entire time,” he didn’t even look up from his book as he said this. The other boys cheered and laughed.   
“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up fellas,” he muttered under his breath. He moved to hold Crutchie to him, then stopped, remembering yet again what he was no longer able to do. That he was no longer able to hold him, run his paint covered fingers through his blonde waves, kiss his face… hold his hand when he was scared, paint fucking cute shit on his face to hear him laugh… Anything. But he couldn’t feel anything.   
“So what do we do?” He asked, scooting even closer to his boyfriend’s flickering form, hoping he could at least feel his warmth or something, he didn’t know. They boys all went silent.   
“We get him to wake up. Somehow.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter isn't that good, sorry guys! (If anyone's actually read this, I can't tell?)   
> Kudos and comments are very appreciated!

"So what do we do?" Jack asked, voice muffled behind his hands.  
"How're we-" his voice cracked.  
"How are we supposed to wake you up?" He asked quietly, looking over at Crutchie.  
Crutchie had moved himself to a corner of the room, and had been picking at his crutch, knees drawn up to his chest. To be honest, he hadn't really been listening much to the conversation. He'd much rather focus on Jack's paint covered face, with the blue, purple, orange streaks across his forehead , and the bit of green Crutchie had swiped across his cheeks. His also paint stain hands, that Crutchie desperately wanted to hold, instead of the paintbrush Jack was fiddling with.  
He wanted to kiss him, have Jack hold him, hell, Race could fucking sit on him, he didn't care, it hurt more than anything not to be able to feel his friends comforting touches. They all had forgotten and went to him, then moved away awkwardly. Jack had tried to kiss him, to hold his hand, to run his fingers through his hair.   
When he remembered he had withdrawn to the counter, fiddling with his paintbrush to avoid upsetting him. Which was stupid, Crutchie wanted to be as close to him as he could get.   
Race had moved to poke him, and throw his legs across his lap, then he went quiet and moved away awkwardly.  
Davey had tried to hug him and put a hand on his shoulder, then he had paused. Moved back to his spot at the couch.   
Albert had been fighting about something with Race, and had sat near Crutchie to put an arm around his shoulder and stick his tongue out at Race. He paused as well. Bit his lip, moved away.   
Crutchie wanted to cry, to scream at them. Just because he couldn't feel it didn't mean he didn't appreciate them trying. They didn't need to fling themselves across the room as if burned. Davey sighed, leaning back against the couch.  
"I, I don't know. When aren't you here?" He asked Crutchie. This. This was a question that he didn't know. This was a question- that was directed at him, he needed to pay attention and answer. He shrugged.  
"I, I don't know. It's always dark and fucking scary an there's weird noises but I don't know what they are and I'm always alone and I never really remember but it's a fucking bad place," he muttered, going back to picking at the towel on his crutch, not meeting anyone's eyes. Silence for a minute.   
Race threw another soda at Albert, who caught it and glared at him.   
"What if someone sleeps at the hospital?" Race asked.  
"I mean, none of us... None of us have been doing that since Crutch started appearing here. So, that way, when he's dragged back, he could be dragged back to the closest place maybe? Instead of here and wherever the bad place is?" He thought out loud.   
"That's actually not a bad idea," Davey admitted.   
"We should try at least," Albert added.   
They all looked at Jack. He didn't notice at first, or was ignoring them, but after a while he looked up. Took a breath.   
"Dave should go," he muttered, they all started protesting.  
Crutchie was silent. Jack didn't want to see him, he didn't want to help... Did he want him back? Was he too much trouble when he was fully alive? He- Crutchie shook his head. He was being stupid. Jack didn't hate him, there was no way Jack didn't want him around. Jack had a reason behind not wanting to... Right?   
"Jack. Jack! Why?!" Race.  
"Why not Kelly?!" Albert.  
"Why don't you wanna help?" Davey asked, sounding frustrated and pleading.   
"I-" Jack looked down. Still didn't meet anyone's eyes.  
"I ain't goin! And none- none of you can make me!" He shouted angrily, and glared at them. With that, he snapped his paintbrush in half and fled the room. Everyone stared.   
Davey's eyes widened as they heard the door slam.  
"Okay... I guess I'll go then... I..." He stopped talking, speechless at Jack's behavior.   
"Fuck!" Crutchie shouted, standing up and throwing himself into Jack's chair at the counter. Great. Jack was mad at him or didn't want him around or something- no. He hadn't done anything, Jack was the one being unreasonable and awful, not Crutchie.   
'But,' a small part of him asked,  
'What if he's sick of you? What if you were too much of a burden?'   
"Fucking fine then! I wouldn't want him to fucking be there anyway!" He snapped when they all looked at him with worry in their eyes.  
"Don't need him to fucking be there if he doesn't wanna be! See what I care!" He continued when Davey came back to sit beside him.   
"Crutchie," he started, then stopped.  
"No! I don't care! He's being a fucking dick! So I don't want him around," he muttered, throwing the pieces of snapped paintbrush across the counter in anger.   
"Fuck him," he muttered, pulling his knees up to his chest.   
"Do you wanna try to talk to him?" Davey tried. Crutchie snorted.  
"I don't wanna talk to him." He went back to picking at the towel on his crutch, making yet another hole bigger.   
"Do you want me to try to talk to him?" Davey asked hesitantly, pushing at his hair. Crutchie shrugged.  
"Whatever. I don't care. I guess not. If he doesn't want to be there he shouldn't have to be. You can stay Davey," he told him. Davey stared for a minute. Nodded.  
"Right. Yeah," he stood up, turning back to Race and Albert.  
"You two stay here?"   
They both nodded.  
"We'll make sure the dick comes back home at some point," Race promised, throwing himself back on the couch.  
"Racetrack!"   
"What? That's what he is," Race shrugged. Davey sighed, rolling his eyes.  
"I feel like I should scold you still, but you have a good fucking point," he admitted, checking the time on his phone.  
"It's late. If we're gonna try this, I should get going," he said, reaching into a drawer and pulling out yet another book.   
"Let me know if anything happens? And Crutchie, I'll hopefully see you soon. If not, we're gonna figure this out. See ya guys," he called, and left.   
Race flipped him off in response.  
"Yeah, we will. See ya Davey!" Albert yelled after him, rolling his eyes and punching Race in the arm.  
"Okay, so... You usually disappear when we're asleep, so we should do that," Race said to Crutchie. He shrugged.  
"Yeah. Whatever."   
"You gonna be okay by yourself until you go wherever it is?" Albert asked, worried.   
No.   
Crutchie didn't answer for a minute.  
"I'll be fine. I'll go hunt for Davey's book to use for blackmail purposes. You two go the fuck to sleep," he tried to force a smile, then hurriedly left the room. He didn't want them to find him, but he didn't know where to go. The rooftop was out, the bedroom was out.   
He eventually curled up on the couch in the other room, where he would have cried if his eyes were still capable of tears. Fucking stupid Jack. Why the hell couldn't he have stayed?   
After a while, he stood up. Took a breath, or at least, went through the motions of it. He looked at the clock. Barely half an hour has passed. Wonderful. This would be a long night. Groaning, he stood up, deciding he might as well actually look for Davey's books to use as blackmail against the other boy. And, as much as he pretended he knew where they all were, he really only knew the location of a few of them.  
By the time he had found more of them (how the fuck did Davey manage to hide more than twenty seven books in different, completely hidden areas around the house??) the door was opening, and Davey came back in.   
Crutchie's face fell. He hadn't realized he had spent all night doing that. Which meant the plan hadn't worked. Fuck!   
"Did-" Davey started to ask, then shook his head. Followed Crutchie back to the living room.   
"Did he ever come home?" Davey asked, after throwing something at both the boys to wake them up. They shook their heads. Davey sighed.   
"I'm gonna go look for him then." He said, and grabbed his keys again. 

Jack panicked when the theater doors opened and someone walked in. No, no, no. They couldn't be there. Please be Medda. Please be Medda-  
"Really Jack?! You couldn't have sent a text letting anyone know you're alive?!"


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not really sure how I feel about this chapter? Hope everyone enjoys! (As always, kudos and comments are very much appreciated)

Jack froze at Davey's voice. Damn it, did it have to be Dave? Jack could have ignored Race or Albert, tubes them out. But not Davey. He turned and glared at him before turning back to his paint. Maybe if he ignored him he would just go away. Not that that ever worked, but hey. First time for everything.  
"Why?" He asked bitterly, not looking at him as he came closer. The point of yelling was, yeah, because he was angry, but the main point was so they wouldn't go after him and try to figure out what was wrong with him.  
"I don't know, cause you left in anger and never came home? Why would we want to know you're not dead from drinking your paint water or something?" Davey asked, rolling his eyes and sitting beside him. Jack still didn't look at him. The only sound was the slight noise his brush made as it moved across the canvas.  
"What do you want Dave?" He finally asked.  
"To know what's going on. Why you fucking shouted at everyone and left!" Davey snapped, resting his face on his hand.  
"Because I didn't wanna go! I was angry! That good? You wanna leave now? There's the door, go back home," Jack muttered.  
"You know Crutchie's fucking pissed!" Davey finally said. Jack tried to shrug casually, though it obviously hurt him that he had to hurt Crutchie.  
"And?"  
"He's strong, and tough, and obviously really pissed off at you but he's hurt Jack! You basically said you didn't want to help him or be near him, what do you think that made him think? Yeah he's fucking pissed, but he was as close to crying as he can get, and it's your fault!" He shouted, standing back up, waiting for a reaction. Jack's head snapped up.  
He got one.  
"He was what?" He whispered. Oh god, what did he do? He felt sick at the thought Crutchie was hurting because of him.  
"Obviously Jack! What if the situation was reversed? What if Crutchie had done this?!"  
"Dave, I... He won't... He won't wanna see me," he attempted. Davey just crossed his arms. Davey just stared.  
"He's cooled down a bit by now. Obviously he'll wanna fucking see you. You guys gotta make up." He sighed. Jack bit his lip, stood up too.  
"You're right. Do... Do you want me to come home?" He asked, wiping at his forehead. Davey nodded.  
"Yes!" He said simply.  
Well. That was easier than Jack had thought. Maybe he wouldn't have to tell them.  
"But before we go, care to explain why you didn't wanna help?" He asked. Jack froze.  
Fucking Davey. He should have known he was too persistent and smart to just leave it.  
"I... I don't know... " he muttered. Davey raised an eyebrow.  
"I couldn't go in there, alright? I can't- I haven't ever been in there since he... I can't go in there, I can't see him like that. Hooked up to all those things, and in pain, and so still and pale and-" his voice cracked.  
"I couldn't do it. It'd... I'm scared if I go in, he ain't ever gonna come back, half ghost or not," he finally cried, throwing his paintbrush down and pushing past Davey.  
"Okay?! There's your explanation, now forget it,"he threw himself into the car, waiting for Davey to follow.  
"Jack," Davey said softly when he started the car. Jack shook his head, stared out the window.  
"I'll go talk to him, alright? Just- I'll talk to him," he said quietly. Davey nodded.  
"Okay."  
And that was all he said.

Crutchie looked up when the door opened. Great. Davey was home with Jack. Wonderful, he'd love to yell at him. But that meant talking to him. He sighed, trying to figure out just how angry he was when Jack walked in.  
"Hey," he said hesitantly. Crutchie didn't move.  
"Don't wanna talk to you," he muttered, not looking up at him. Jack frowned, ran his hand through his hair.  
"Yeah, I figured. But I wanna talk to you. Can I do that?"  
Crutchie shook his head.  
"Don't wanna hear your voice,"  
A lie. His voice was all he had left, and he didn't want to lose it too.  
"But I can't stop you." He tore another hole in his towel. Jack didn't say anything for a minute.  
"Well, I ain't leaving. Davey says you're pissed off, and you got that right. But I gotta tell you things. But first, do you wanna say anything to me?" He asked.  
Crutchie looked up, glared at him.  
Fucking fine. If he wanted to talk so bad.  
"What the fuck was that Jack Kelly?!" He finally shouted.  
"I didn't know where you were! You just yelled and then left! How did I know you didn't drink your stupid paint water or go out drinking or get in a fight?! One fucking text would've been nice!" He threw his crutch down.  
"I couldn't even go look for you, okay?! I'm stuck here! I physically cannot leave!" He paused. Jack looked at him worriedly.  
"That's what you're mad about? I- you're right, I should've texted, I-"  
"I'm not done!" Crutchie snapped, and Jack shut up.  
"And what the hell made you so angry in the first place?! I'm sorry we assumed you'd wanna help! Unless you actually fucking don't.." He finally said, going back to his couch, arms over his head. Jack stared, tears starting to fall.  
"Crutch, I- I know I don't deserve it, but let me explain, alright? I swear, I wasn't mad at you, and there's no way I didn't wanna help." He began, wiping at his eyes angrily.  
"I, I just... I'm scared. I ain't been in there since the last time, and that was before... But I've tried to go in, and every time I just imagine you in there, hooked up to those machine and still and silent and not smiling and hurting and then I can't breathe or think and suddenly I'm home painting anger paintings because I couldn't do it. And I know that's not an excuse, and I'm so sorry I'm a coward Crutch," he finally let out a sob. He pulled away, sniffed.  
"You can still be mad at me if you want," he got out, voice only cracking a little. Crutchie leaned back against the bed. Held out a hand even though he wouldn't be able to feel anything.  
"Come here Jackie," he whispered. Jack glanced at him, slowly sitting beside him.  
"I ain't mad no more. Well, I am still pissed off a bit, you fucker. But I was mostly worried cause I can't come get you no more. An I... Was worried that you didn't wanna help because..." He trailed off. Shook his head.  
"Never mind."  
Jack frowned.  
"Crutchie. Hey, you can tell me."  
"Nope, nothing to tell."  
"Crutch, please?" Jack pleaded.  
"... I was worried you... Didn't really... Want me around no more, or that I was too much trouble or... Orthatyouhatedme or somethin stupid like that," he finally muttered, knowing Jack would just keep pestering him until he got the right answer. Jack stared, eyes wide and filled with tears.  
"Crutch, I-" his voice cracked again, and he licked his lips.  
"Never. That would never happen. I- I'm so sorry I made you think that again, but Crutch-" he blinked, let out a small noise before pulling at his hair.  
"I promise. You're never ever no trouble or anything. Of course I want you around sweetheart, I-" he leaned in to kiss him. Crutchie closed his eyes, pressing his lips against Jack's. Jack moved away, and he opened his eyes. Fuck. They had forgotten. He pulled at Jack.  
"Don't go away just cause I couldn't feel it," he murmured, pleaded. Jack was hesitant, but nodded.  
"Why are you really hot?" Crutchie asked. Jack paused, opened his mouth. Crutchie quickly shushed him.  
"I'm rephrasing. Your body temperature is very hot," he said, sniggering at Jack's mock hurt expression.  
"I don't know. I was running, and the theaters ac broke and it's more than a 100 fucking degrees, an- wait, you can feel that?" He asked. Crutchie shrugged, nodded.  
"Yeah. So?"  
Jack stood up.  
"So I'm finding you a blanket or something. Can you even like, touch things though? I don't-"  
Crutchie held something up.  
"I don't know, can I Jack?" He asked, shaking the paintbrush he had snatched out of his pocket at him. Jack gasped in mock hurt, grabbing it back. Crutchie rolled his eyes and pushed ahead of him as he performed his betrayal scene yet again. Jack went to his room and rummaged through his closet before throwing something at him.  
"Put this on, if it works I guess," he said, throwing something at him. Crutchie grabbed it, put on one of Jack's large sweatshirts.  
"This isn't a blanket."  
"I gave it to you, so I think I know that." Jack told him, closing the door. Crutchie buried his face in the sleeves for a minute.  
"It smells like you,"  
Jack smiled.  
"That wasn't a compliment. It stinks-I'm kidding!" He laughed, as Jack lunged at him. Jack wrapped his arms around him, holding him close and rocking a bit. Crutchie couldn't feel his arms, but he felt the warm pressure of the paint stained sweatshirt.  
"See? Almost the same," Jack whispered. Crutchie smiled a bit.  
"You're a dork," he murmured, leaning his head back against his chest to look at him. Jack smiled, then his eyes lit up.  
"Hey! What if I like, burned my lips on something hot and then kissed you? You could feel it-"  
Crutchie swatted at him.  
"No. That's a bad idea. No burning yourself."  
Jack whined.  
"But I wanna see if it workkkkkkssss."  
Crutchie snorted.  
"As much as I wanna kiss you right now, no. Maybe if you do it on accident I'll let you try. But I'll be able to tell if you do it on purpose. And I'll just laugh at your suffering." He added. Jack gasped.  
"You're evil, you little shit, you know that?"  
Crutchie grinned.  
"Yep!"  
Race suddenly clambered in through the window, trying not to laugh.  
"You two made up yet?"  
Crutchie glared at him. Flipped him off.  
"Race. You were literally in the house. Did you really climb out a window, go around the house, just to climb in through another window?" He asked incredulously. Race shrugged. Nodded.  
"Pretty much."  
"Why?" Jack asked, confused.  
"Cause its funny, and it annoys Jack." He grinned. Crutchie shrugged.  
"Fair point. That's a good reason."  
Hey!" Jack complained.  
"Anyway, you guys wanna come not be weird and gross and come out with the rest of us? We have to wait till night to try again, obviously."  
Jack nodded.  
"Yeah. Give us a minute," he shoved Race out of the room before he turned back to Crutchie.  
"Hey kiddo? We're getting you back tonight, I promise."  
Crutchie tried to smile.  
"Yeah?"  
"Of course. Would I let you down?"  
He waited.  
Crutchie did smile at this.  
"No way."  
"Exactly. So just hold on kid," he whispered again, and held him to him.


End file.
